<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>territorial by wordstruck</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946913">territorial</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/wordstruck'>wordstruck</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alpha Ushijima Wakatoshi, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Established Relationship, Knotting, M/M, Mentioned Kuroo Tetsurou, Omega Oikawa Tooru, PIV Sex, Possessive Behavior, Scenting, Semi-Public Sex</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:47:19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,005</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26946913</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordstruck/pseuds/wordstruck</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s a long line of heat down Oikawa’s back, dragging an open mouth across the omega’s shoulders.</p><p>“You,” Ushijima tells him; quiet, commanding, like the conqueror he is on the court, “are <i>mine</i>."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>734</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>territorial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pridwen/gifts">Pridwen</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>written as another request for <a href="https://twitter.com/ehangwenn">@ehan</a>!! i did <i>not</i> go like 2k words overboard this time LMAO but we are back with more ushioi omegaverse (thank u bless u). prompt this time was for oikawa watching ushijima on the court and getting turned on, and scenting as a result. ushijima notices his scent and confronts him afterwards annddd they fuck.</p><p>kuroo makes an appearance because i have a little soft spot for mischievous kuroo as their teammate in college.</p><p>fic mostly edited but i'll fix anything in retrospect. enjoy!!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <hr/><p> </p><p>Objectively, Oikawa knows Ushijima is an attractive alpha.</p><p>It’s worse now that they’re both at university — now that Ushijima has grown into his body more, lost the childish edges of high school. His shoulders are a little broader, his body a little taller. His jaw is more pronounced with his hair cropped shorter. The seriousness of his expression has taken on a new maturity. And then there’s his <em> scent— </em></p><p>The point is, <em> objectively, </em>Oikawa is aware of Ushijima’s attractiveness, both as a good-looking man and as an alpha.</p><p>Which means he really shouldn’t be so distracted by the sight of Ushijima on a volleyball court, and yet here he is all the same.</p><p>The season hasn’t started yet, so their coach has room to experiment with plays and strategies. Right now that means Oikawa’s sitting out this practice game, so Ushijima can try working with their second setter. Oikawa’s supposed to be on the bench so he can watch his teammates, spot potential weaknesses and areas for improvement, or suggest possible offensive combinations. And he <em> is, </em>he’s watching his teammates: the timing of their blocks, the reaction for the receives, the different run-ups ahead of an attack. It’s just that his attention keeps drifting back to Ushijima before he can stop himself.</p><p>There’s an undeniable power in Ushijima’s body, when he launches himself into the air, when he pulls back for a spike. The lines of his form, clean and precise; the tension in his body, held perfectly ahead of release. The force transferred to the ball — to the floor — to the exquisite placement of the hit as it rebounds to the far wall. Even before they’d become teammates, even when Oikawa had looked at him with bared teeth and thinly-veiled fury — he couldn’t deny that.</p><p>(Now, of course, he doesn’t have to.)</p><p>It’s half-impossible not to let his attention be drawn by the way Ushijima looks on the volleyball court, not when his presence demands it of everyone watching. The consummate ace and alpha, imperious and unrelenting. It was a sore point in high school, but with distance and maturity, Oikawa can appreciate it now. They make an excellent partnership.</p><p>(Oikawa has never allowed himself to be <em> less than </em> on the court. Serves, blocks, and tosses — everything is purposeful, precise, planned. He, too, is a commanding presence on the court, the setter who stands at the center of it all and says, <em> look at me.</em>)</p><p>He forces his attention back to the game. The opposing team executes a quick switch-up, with the rear middle blocker coming forward to attack. Oikawa feels himself start forward on instinct, half-rising from the bench; on the court, their libero throws himself forward to get the ball back in the air. The receive is off, nowhere near the setter, who has to stumble backwards to reach. He won’t compensate enough, the set will be too short, the ball won’t make it—</p><p>The scent of a storm, of deep earth. Ushijima catches the ball perfectly in the curve of his palm. He’d shortened his run-up, anticipating where the toss would peak, angle sharp and devastating as he sends the ball straight at the block.</p><p>Ricochet. The ball spins off, landing just in front of the opposite bench. Ushijima lands just in front of the net, eyes fixed on the blocker he’d caught out. There’s the smallest hint of a smirk in the corner of his mouth.</p><p>Oikawa grins fiercely. Perfection.</p><p>Something soft hits him on the head, flopping over his face. He rips the shirt off in disgust, turning to find Kuroo leering at him.</p><p>“Down, omega,” his friend teases, laughing when Oikawa hurls his shirt back. “I could smell you across the gym.”</p><p>“Ex<em>cuse </em> you—” Oikawa bristles, then grimaces when he realizes how he’s reacting. He sniffs, lofty, nose in the air. “I can’t help smelling this good.”</p><p>Kuroo’s eyes flick over Oikawa’s shoulder then, and his expression flashes with both amusement and disquiet. A corner of his mouth curls up. “Just saying,” he drawls, “I’m not the only one who’s noticed.”</p><p>When Oikawa follows his gaze, his breath catches in his throat. Ushijima’s stare is heavy, insistent, making him feel pinned in place. The alpha’s scent turns sharp, like the crackle of lightning. Oikawa’s next inhale is open-mouthed, deep, dazed.</p><p>It breaks when Ushijima looks away, returning to his spot on the court, awaiting the serve. Oikawa blinks, shaking his head and turning back to find Kuroo smirking at him. He makes a face, but Kuroo just laughs again, waving carelessly as he walks off.</p><p>Oikawa scoffs, turning back to the game. He feels a little self-conscious now; he hadn’t realized he’d been scenting that much, hadn’t recognized the slow heat simmering under his skin. He forces himself to <em> not </em>look at Ushijima; to focus on the plays and movements and not the way Ushijima looks under the lights of the court. He doesn’t think about scents and rainstorms, fresh-turned earth.</p><p>He doesn’t notice the way Ushijima’s eyes linger on him during the in-between moments, the pauses. Doesn’t notice the hunger in the alpha’s eyes.</p><p>Doesn’t notice the <em> look </em>Ushijima gives the other alphas around them before he takes his place on the service line.</p><p> </p><p>The game ends, with their team winning 2-1. The players gather together to debrief. Oikawa stands by the coach and gives his comments — compliments smartly-set up plays, well-timed blocks. Points out a few holes in their defense when certain players are off the court. Suggests possible combinations to work on. He’s aware that the team is watching him intently (and one man in particular, like Ushijima could strip Oikawa raw with just his gaze), but he makes nothing of it until the team is dismissed. He’s walking towards the locker room when someone grabs his arm in a bruising grip, hauling him towards the far side of the gym.</p><p>“And <em> what </em>do you think you’re doing—” Oikawa hisses, stumbling a little to keep up. Ushijima throws him a glare over his shoulder, then hauls him through the door and into the corridor. The locker room — and the showers — are further down the hall, but to Oikawa’s surprise, Ushijima hauls him into one of the equipment storage rooms.</p><p>From the moment the lock clicks shut, Ushijima is on him, fingers digging into his ribs as he walks Oikawa backwards. His mouth is demanding, merciless; he licks at the seam of Oikawa’s lips before shoving his tongue inside. Oikawa can’t help the moan he gives, nor the way citrus and spice blooms in the tiny room. Ushijima’s own rainfall and tilled-earth scent is overwhelming enough to make him dizzy.</p><p>They break apart when Oikawa feels like he can’t breathe, like he’s been kissed senseless. Ushijima ducks his head, mouthing over Oikawa’s scent gland. Oikawa snorts softly.</p><p>“Care to explain why I’ve been manhandled into a closet?”</p><p>Ushijima just grunts, tugging skin between teeth to suck harshly, intent on leaving a mark. Oikawa rolls his eyes and shoves at his (stupidly solid, well-built) chest.</p><p>“Let me <em> go, </em>you big alpha brute, you’re all gross and sweaty—”</p><p>“Your scent.” It’s half a growl, Ushijima’s hands tightening around his waist. He presses Oikawa further back, leaning against the stack of gym mats. “You are the <em> worst </em>distraction, I couldn’t think straight smelling you all the way across the court.”</p><p>“My <em> what? </em>”</p><p>“I could smell you.” Ushijima drops lower, biting down the line of Oikawa’s neck, already wrestling the omega’s jacket off. “The whole <em> gym </em>could — scenting like that, you should have known.” One big hand threads through Oikawa’s hair, gentle at first, then yanking back so the omega has his throat bared to the insistence of Ushijima’s mouth. “I was not the only alpha watching you.”</p><p>Oikawa shivers, hands clenched on Ushijima’s shirt, crumpling the fabric. He’d feel more ashamed about already being so <em> wet </em> if he wasn’t so fucking turned on. Ushijima’s scent — his touch — his <em> voice </em>— everything’s too much. He can feel the hard line of Ushijima’s cock against the seam of his thigh and goddamn, he wants it in him. There’s a hand down his shorts, two fingers pressing into him, working him open with a zeal bordering violence.</p><p>“Tempting other alphas like this,” Ushijima murmurs, low and dark, a thrill down Oikawa’s spine, “what should I do with you?”</p><p>“Shut the fuck up,” Oikawa rasps, and hauls him down for another kiss.</p><p>It’s hot, hungry, both of them tugging at each other’s clothes, letting up only enough to pull something off. Ushijima doesn’t let up, hauling Oikawa around and shoving him up against the wall, right by the door. He’s a long line of heat down Oikawa’s back, dragging an open mouth across the omega’s shoulders. Then his ass is unceremoniously yanked back, spread open so Ushijima can see where he’s practically dripping slick.</p><p>“You,” Ushijima tells him; quiet, commanding, like the conqueror he is on the court, “are <em> mine.</em>”</p><p>The first slide in of Ushijima’s cock is always overwhelming. Oikawa doesn’t think he’ll ever not be gagging for this, the feel of Ushijima filling him up. He bites down on a moan, arching his back further, he wants Ushijima in deeper. The darkly-amused chuckle Ushijima gives just makes Oikawa’s blood run hotter. He doesn’t have time to come up with a snappy retort; Ushijima thrusts, relentless and brutal from the beginning, fucking into him so good Oikawa could sob from it. So good, so <em> fucking </em> good, he’s going to feel the ache in him for a <em> week </em>but it’s exactly how he likes it.</p><p>There’s a burst of chatter outside the room, then, several of their teammates emerging into the corridor. They’ve probably finished showering, already heading off for the evening. Oikawa can’t help it — he feels himself clench around Ushijima, hips twitching as he claps a hand to his own mouth, stifling the cry as the alpha’s cock bottoms out inside him.</p><p>There’s a wide palm sliding up his spine then, closing around the back of his neck. “Did you like that?” Ushijima asks, soft. His hips slow down, a deliberate roll that has him whining. “You’d better be more quiet, or people will hear you.”</p><p>He thrusts in hard enough to push Oikawa up the wall, making Oikawa muffle a scream. “Or maybe,” Ushijima goes on, and every word is liquid heat down Oikawa’s spine, “you <em> want </em>them to hear you.”</p><p>The noise peters out, the corridor emptying. Ushijima yanks Oikawa’s hand away, shoving two fingers in, spit pooling in his mouth. He can’t be quiet like this, can’t completely choke back the noises he makes as Ushijima fucks into him like he’s in a rut. He comes with three fingers in his mouth, Ushijima’s teeth sunk into his shoulder.</p><p>When Ushijima finally comes, he bends Oikawa forward again so he can shove his knot in, stuffing Oikawa full. He splays a hand over Oikawa’s pelvis, pressing lightly, leaning forward to litter kisses between the omega’s shoulder blades. His scent is lighter, all satisfaction, and Oikawa would scoff if he had caught his breath yet, if he wasn’t drowning in the scent of rain and fresh earth.</p><p>It takes a few minutes before they can separate, untangle, pick up their scattered clothes and try to make themselves presentable. The showers are hopefully empty now, no teammates to make teasing remarks about their appearances. Oikawa runs his hands through his hair but he can feel it’s a lost cause. Ushijima isn’t much better.</p><p>“Next time,” he says, as loftily as he can manage when he looks this debauched. “Could you wait until we got back to the dorm, at least?”</p><p>Ushijima has the audacity to <em> snort, </em>leaning in and kissing Oikawa quick, light, once-twice-sweet. “No promises.”</p><p>“You are <em> impossible. </em>”</p><p>Olive eyes twinkle, unrepentant. “I adore you.”</p><p>Oikawa stares at him, indignant and flustered, expression complicated. He shoves at Ushijima again. Ushijima catches his hands, lifts them to his lips. Oikawa grumbles, but doesn’t pull away.</p><p>“You’re damn lucky I love you.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thank you for reading! as usual, come say hi on social media — i'm <a href="https://twitter.com/redluxite">@redluxite</a> and i yell about haikyuu a lot (among other things). you can check there for ways to support my writing!</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>